the spirits of the dead
by achieving elysium
Summary: Post-BoO, solangelo two-shot. [part i / and the mist upon the hill: Will is dying, and a little birdy is sending him flowers to follow him to the grave. part ii / 'mid dark thoughts of the grey tombstone: After all, a hero's story always ends in tragedy.]
1. part i

**and the mist upon the hill**

_"..and the mist upon the hill  
>Shadowy-shadowy-yet unbroken.."<br>from Spirits of the Dead, Edgar Allen Poe_

for my dear kitty: happy seventeenth birthday; all hail the Queen

* * *

><p>Will Solace took a deep breath as he aimed, exhaling as he released the arrow. It flew true; as usual, the arrow plunged into the center of the target. Next to him, Katie also released her own arrow, hitting extremely close to the bull's eye. She sighed before grabbing another arrow, turning to look at him.<p>

"Go on, Solace. You know I'm not going to hit it anytime soon." He rolled his eyes. She was a very good shot for someone who tended to trip over her own plants and walk into walls. ("Plants like me too much," she would protest. "and walls are friends.")

"Of course you will," he told her. He was interrupted.

"Will!" Alyss called him from the 200-yard section. They were split into sections, starting from 100 yards and going up to 300. When you hit at least five arrows in the bulls-eye, you moved up a level. So to speak.

"See you later, Katie," he said. She grunted in acknowledgement, squinting at the target.

"Will!" his sister cried again, and he jogged to the station next to her, grinning. She was already on her fourth arrow; he would have to beat that.

The arrows made a tight ring in the center. He focused, the sounds around him fading away and the only thing standing out was the blue-and-red target set up. Another hit, but this one was off by centimeters.

He reached back to draw another arrow and found nothing. When he slung the quiver towards his front, it was filled with-

_Flowers. _Alyss stared. Where the arrow had once been, a mix of small white and pink flowers bloomed. There were tons of them, and he gently tugged them out to study. They were pretty, he supposed. They were the kind of flowers he'd expect to see growing in some distant meadow.

A small hand found its way to his shoulder. He turned in surprise to meet Katie's eyes. She was smiling sadly.

"A little birdy told me to give them to you," she said quietly, looking away. "They're Armenian thrift flowers."

He blinked. "They're _what_?"

Katie rolled her eyes and repeated the words. "They represent sympathy. Someone's sorry for you."

Next to him, Alyss paled and grabbed his hand. He let the bow drop - surely, surely, no one knew.. He'd made sure no one knew. None of his siblings were allowed to tell; he'd know if they were lying, anyway.

He could only roll the long, thin stems between his fingers and hum, frowning.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Solace," a familiar voice said. A smile found its way onto his face.<p>

A minute later, a smaller, black-clad body sat down next to him. By instinct, he reached out and grabbed Nico's hand in his own. The other boy hesitated for only a second - still unused to this new, strange contact between the both of them - before squeezing Will's hand.

When Nico spoke next, his voice was heavy. Sad. "Alyss told me, you know."

His blood ran cold, and he swore his heart stopped beating for a second. He turned fast, legs pressing against the side of the seat. He hadn't wanted to tell his friends for this reason; he wasn't sure he could handle _this. _

He didn't want to watch their hearts slowly freeze and shatter, a million shards of glass. He didn't want to watch this, this.. the same things he'd been seeing all his life, having a nurse as a mother and working at the hospital. He'd seen it far too much to see it strike home.

He swallowed back the words he was about to say, instead murmuring,"Nico."

Nico's dark eyes did nothing to help. Before he could say anything - words of comfort, maybe, or an apology, even an explanation, he found himself being tackled by a hug. Nico buried his head in Will's chest, grabbing the back of his shirt in fists. He wrapped his own arms around the smaller boy, his heart squeezing painfully.

"No," the boy was mumbling. "Please, _gods, no. _I can't lose you, I can't.. not you.. _please. Not again._" A giant wave crashed over them both - he was choking, gasping for air and fighting to keep his head above the surface - sweeping them away, and he gripped Nico tightly and prayed that he would never have to let go.

* * *

><p>Hands wrapped around him - hands pressed against his legs, hands pressing his arms to his side, hands gripping his shoulders. If they didn't hold him, he'd probably hurt himself even more.<p>

In his blurring vision, he could make out Dean, calling instructions. His brother then grabbed the syringe, moving closer and gently tipping his head back.

"We're here, okay?" he whispered into Will's ear, and then the syringe plunged into the side of his neck. Something cold started making its way through his body. There was another prick in his arm, another in some other place he couldn't tell because-

There was someone breathing heavily behind him, breath warm on his neck. He turned; the image flickered. For a second, it was Dean, and then, and then it was a giant with grosteque features, bringing a club down hard on his skull. It shattered; he was screaming, something warm trickling from his eyes - maybe blood, he couldn't-

_"-hold him,"_

A knife found its way into his stomach, and then, no, it wasn't a knife anymore.. it was a syringe, filled with a clear liquid. He opened his mouth to scream again, and lava filled his mouth, burning down his throat. He kicked out, clawing - there was something holding him.

_"-'ab.. arms, the feet.. ess.." _

If it was a him, anyway. The pain slowly ebbed, and a low voice was singing something.

_"..Min.. ming to Camp, come on, Solace, if I.. sing, you gotta... ing, too." _Min? What was Min? Was that his name?

No. _Solace. _The voice was so, so familiar.

The things he'd seen began to disappear into wisps of smoke. Things began to focus; there was something bright in front of him, bright yellow..

_"You better watch out, you better cry, you better run, or you're gonna die, 'cause the Minotaur is coming to Camp, come on, Solace, if I have to sing.." _

He recognized this voice singing inside his head, and he also recognized Jane's bright yellow jacket. The wisps of smoke began to move, and then they turned into shapes - an arm there, a hand there, some other things he couldn't quite make out.

_Nico di Angelo, _he said in his head. _I love Nico di Angelo. My name is Will Solace; I am seventeen years old. I am dying. I am still alive.. I am at Camp Half-Blood in New York. I am with my siblings in the Apollo cabin. I am a demigod. I'm not normal, but that's okay. I like mint ice cream and playing cards.. _

It took him ten minutes to remember a lot of things about himself and to find himself in the Apollo cabin. It took him another five to realize that he'd told himself two very important facts that he hadn't repeated to himself before.

One, he loved Nico. Two, he was dying.

* * *

><p>Someone pressed a glass in his hand; he drank it immediately, downing it in one swallow. Whatever was in the glass - it was good. Champagne, maybe, something that made him feel like he could fly.<p>

It was August 18, 2014, and Camp Half-Blood was having the biggest party it had ever seen. First of all, they'd saved the world again. (Which was, of course, a good thing. It meant the world was whole enough to let them have the biggest party they'd ever seen.) It was also the anniversary of the Battle of Manhattan, Percy's birthday, and the day Percy and Annabeth had gotten together.

So, naturally, everyone wanted to party.

Someone (or multiple someones - everyone knew who, by the amount of fake coughing fits) had decided to bring the Party Ponies, which explained the random screams of terror - or maybe excitement, and the Party Ponies decided it wasn't a party without real ponies and champagne. And everything else.

He passed Percy, clasping him on the shoulder and wishing him a happy birthday. He passed Dionysus, who had a wine glass (filled with actual wine!) in one hand and who also happened to be kissing a beautiful, dark-haired woman - Ariadne, he guessed. Then his brain processed what he'd just seen - Mr. D, the man who yelled at every camper and played pinochle and wore stupid leopard print shirts and started the Camp Mini-War of 2011 (in which the campers and Mr. D tried to see who could get the other more pissed off), was _kissing_. Ew.

He turned away quickly and came face-to-face with Nico di Angelo.

"Hi, Solace," he said, and before he could say anything back, the younger boy grabbed his shirt, pulled him closer, and pressed his lips on Will's cheek just shy of his mouth. Then, he handed him a bouquet of flowers.

He was smart enough to know there were two different types of flowers: one kind was smaller, white flowers with streaks in the center of each petal, and the other looked more like a rose, but the petals were almost pointed, and they didn't have that weird thing that just screamed roses.

"What are they?" he asked.

A ghost of a smile flickered on Nico's face. "Asphodel flowers and camellias," he told him.

Will almost choked, thinking about his impending doom. "And what do they mean?" he breathed.

Asphodel flowers, surely named after the fields in the Underworld, where the only living souls were Hades and Persephone - the other beings, too, if you counted. The land of the dead.

"My regrets follow you to the grave, and camellias mean good luck, but also gratitude. A little birdy wants to tell you that their regrets follow you to the grave, and they thank you and wish you good luck."

These flowers - such beautiful things, but so fragile..

* * *

><p>It was the Olympian follow-up party.. a.k.a We Totally Had a Party Yesterday but We Should Party More so Here's an Excuse. No one minded of course - him especially - but he <em>did <em>want some quiet.

The gods didn't really hold back at all. It was enough to drive anyone insane.

"Solace," Nico said, slipping up next to him. He almost dropped the plastic cup he was holding, and red punch sloshed inside of it.

"Don't do that," he said, not harshly, his voice rough. Nico grinned at him, enjoying the expression on his face, and he rolled his eyes.

"I'm going to explore. Want to come with?" He took a moment to realize what Nico was saying.

Then he shrugged. "Why not?"

They ended up in the Olympian gardens, after quite a long time of walking into wrong places at the wrong time and more than once stopping to admire Annabeth's work. (Even the pillars were perfect. He had stopped to stare at freaking _pillars._)

The stone bench was smooth and cold - and very uncomfortable. He fidgeted, staring at the flowers growing all over the place and the fountains and the giant marble bust of Zeus in the very middle. Which hadn't surprised Will at all when he'd spotted it; the king of drama had always been the type of person to order a statue of himself wherever he could manage it.

Nico swung his feet back and forth, and the two of them sat in companionable silence.

He suddenly wished he could kiss Nico, or hold him, or do something that would've felt so out of place that it would end up being the exact opposite of what he'd been aiming for. So instead he got up, dusted off his jeans, and extended a hand.

"Want to dance?"

His - dare he say it - non-official, sort-of-kind-of boyfriend stared at him, giving him a disbelieving look and raising one eyebrow. He kept his hand out, and Nico kept staring at him.

"Come on, Nico," he said, the words sliding off his tongue. "Dance with me."

"I don't dance, Solace."

Instead, he just grabbed Nico's arm and pulled him up, putting his arms around his waist. Nico yelped and glared at him, but he relented and put his arms around Will's neck. A thousand butterflies filled his stomach, and he moved back a little.

They danced awkwardly - Will half-stepping on Nico's feet and trying to lead them, Nico laughing every time he was stepped on and trying to show Will how to dance. And the idiot said he didn't dance. Finally they just gave up and stood there together, their only witness the stupid marble bust of Zeus.

And then Nico kissed him - really kissed him this time, and all thoughts of death and hippie Zeus' left him.

* * *

><p>Angela Solace was 43 years old, much, much older than him - yet he was so much more closer to the end of his life than she was to his. And here he was, with Jay putting a hand on his shoulder in reassurance, standing in front of his mom's door. Hesitating.<p>

And then he realized he was hesitating, felt slightly disgusted by himself (what kid who loved their mom _waited _outside their mom's door? Oh, right. Him.). Before he could regret anything, he rapped sharply on the door three times with his knuckles.

Apparently, he mused, his mother had quit her job as a nurse and had become a professor at NYU. And then a terrible thought struck him - had she taken the job, perhaps, for him? Not entirely, no, but he had been planning on going to NYU next year...

Except there wouldn't be a next year, would there?

"Will! Jay!" His mom cried, opening the door and ushering them in. She was still the most beautiful woman in the world, with her pale blonde hair starting to turn white, wearing a green dress with a swirling pattern that was so _her, _her blue eyes clear.

They perched at the breakfast bar/counter as she made tea. They migrated to the dining table, sunlight streaming through the large windows. He stared outside, a cup of steaming tea in his hands. New York, at least, had stayed constant in the roller coaster that he'd been riding over the past few - what was it? Months? _Year? _

Angela sat down across from them at the dining table, setting her cup down on the glass surface and staring at the two of them hard. Her blue eyes were serious.

"What's going on, boys? You show up unannounced at my door a week before college starts. There's obviously something going on - and both of you are here, too." Ah, there she was. Blunt and down to business as usual.

He reached across the table, grabbing her frail hands in his own.

"Mom," he said, and his voice broke. He couldn't do it, couldn't tell his mom that he would never attend her class, would never pass on the Solace legacy, would never drink tea at one in the morning with her again, or run in the hall of their apartment, or slide down the banister of the stairs, or carry her groceries, or..

Dear gods, he was going to fucking die.

Jay grabbed him in a hug, and he clung to his older brother for support. He could feel his eyes burn, and his throat began to clog up. He wiped furiously at the tears that formed and reached across to grip her hands - maybe for the last time. He held them tight, lingering on this thought.

"Mom," he said, choking the words out past a half-formed sob. "I'm dying, Mom. I'm dying."

* * *

><p>He excused himself, sticking the training sword into its sheath and putting it to the side of the arena with the others. Walking amongst the sparring pairs, Percy paused to meet his eyes. He knew - all the counselors did - and Percy just jerked his head towards the exit. <em>Go. <em>

He nodded, jogging out and leaning against the low wall encircling the arena, pressing his fingers to his temples. Stars burst in front of his eyes; he slumped against the wall and closed his eyes.

The migraines were coming more and more often now. He would be in the middle of something, and he'd have to stop for a moment and wait it out. Sometimes the pain would be so bad that he would almost pass out.

It wasn't unbearable today, but his head felt like an anvil was being pounded against it over and over. A thought sparked in his slightly feverish mind. With fumbling fingers, he untied the healer's pouch from around his neck and opened it, shaking. He kept ambrosia and a few useful herbs in there.

He broke the ambrosia into smaller chunks and popped one in his mouth. The taste of his mom's twenty-minute-rush-out-the-door mac n' cheese exploded on his tongue, and he sighed in content as the pain eased just a bit.

And then he slipped a small pill bottle out of his pocket and unscrewed the top, throwing his head back and downing a pill - painkillers, though only a small amount. His pain faded to a dull roaring, and he sighed in relief, closing his eyes in sheer exhaustion.

This would be his last medication of the day; he'd had more ambrosia than safe and about three pills already. If he had anything more, he'd get even more sick than he already was. He didn't know medicare inside and out completely, but he knew more than enough to know that wasn't entirely too healthy.

He leaned against the wall for another moment, prayed to the gods, and began making his way back to swordfighting.

* * *

><p>"Will, if you're up to it, it's your shift!" Jay called. His older brother had decided on returning to Camp Half-Blood on an unplanned-for break. He looked up from reading <em>More Than This <em>on the porch of Cabin One.

"Oh, okay," he said, a little regretful. (It was a good book, alright?)

They'd had a monster attack a little while ago, so the Apollo kids were busy taking shifts to take care of the injured. He hadn't been in the thick of the battle - between his siblings and Nico, there wasn't a chance of _that _- still the working medic.

He headed for the Big House, waving at Chiron as he did. In the infirmary, he met up with five of his other siblings, all preparing. He slapped on a pair of gloves and took over his section, getting straight to work.

Abigail - the thirteen-year old from Cabin Six - was fast asleep when he slid into her room. He smiled at the sight and did a quick check-up on the nasty gashes a hellhound had given her. They'd been pretty deep, and next to that, she'd broken an arm, so he kept her here.

Everything was healing nicely. He rewrapped the bandages and moved on.

His next patient was Lou Ellen, who was sitting up in bed, playing with cat's eye marbles. She was doing what he'd told her not to do, which was using magic to levitate them.

"You know you're not supposed to do that," he told her, unable to keep the amusement off of his face. "You're already pretty weak. Using magic is going to drain at you."

She narrowed her eyes at him and shook her head. The marbles moved to form letters.

_Y-O-U. K-N-O-W. I. D-O-N-T. C-A-R-E. _

"Don't come crying to me," he said. "Let me check your ribs?"

She nodded, lifting up the too-big t-shirt to show him her wrapped ribs. He unwrapped them, gently probing at her side with soft fingers. He wound the bandages around them tightly again.

"Knee?" he asked. She let the shirt drop and pushed the blankets back. "Does it still hurt?"

She bit her lip. _Y-E-S. _

He checked that, too. There wasn't anything out of order, her knee still black and blue, the muscles damaged. Ouch.

"You want painkillers?" he asked her. She thought about this for a moment.

_P-L-E-A-S-E. I-T. H-U-R-T-S. L-I-K-E. A. B-I-T- _He moved the levitating marbles aside before they could form the last letter, and she laughed, pointing at the door. He exited, heading for the medical supplies. It didn't take him long to find the painkillers (pill form, as Lou liked them.) and to grab a bottle of water.

When he came back with both, Lou was still playing with the marbles, but she was holding something he hadn't noticed before - a bouquet of flowers.

"I didn't know you had flowers," he said, popping the cap off and tipping two pills into her hand. "Swallow them with water, please. I didn't take that long, did I?"

She obediently swallowed the pills, the painkillers working almost immediately. Her eyes drooped; painkillers took you out of it. She fought to keep them open, though, wriggling her fingers in the direction of her lap.

_B-I-R-D-Y. P-E-R-I-W-I-N-K-L-E-S. P-R-I-M-R-O-S-E-S. _Periwinkles - his mother grew them in flowerpots on the kitchen counter. He took the flowers, not surprised but still slightly frantic. Who was this little 'birdy'?

He turned back towards his patient. "What do they mean, Lou?"

She gave a little tired moan, and his heart filled with guilt. He needed to know, though - and Lou agreed. She gave up on the marbles, using enough energy to keep them in the air and reaching towards the nightstand next to her bed.

She found a pen and piece of paper, scribbling something before setting it down. Her eyes fluttered again, and her head lolled to the side. He grabbed her and eased her into the bed, glancing at the note as he did.

_I had sweet memories with you, and I can't live without you. _

He gathered the fallen marbles with shaking fingers, the note burning a hole in his pocket.

* * *

><p>He winced as the stone made another <em>ping <em>against the window, hoping that his plan wouldn't send the harpies wouldn't run for him. He looked around. No chicken ladies here to devour him.

_Ping. Ping. Ping. _He threw a few more stones at Nico's window, realizing this was possibly the cheesiest thing he'd ever done in his entire life. _Ping. _

Finally, the dark curtains of the Hades Cabin drew open, and a half-asleep Nico stared at him. Will winced a little and gave a sheepish half-wave. The boy gave a very audible sigh and shut the curtains. A few minutes later, he showed up next to Will and grabbed his arm, pulling him behind the cabin.

"It's two in the morning, Sunshine. What could you possibly want?"

"I could think of a few things," he said without thinking, shooting Nico a grin. The boy froze, blushing bright red and pushing at his chest. He held his hands up in surrender.

"I missed you, actually," he confessed, and Nico groaned. The son of Hades ran a hand through his already-messy hair.

"That doesn't change the fact that it's _two in the fucking morning, Solace._" He blinked.

"Come on," he said. "I don't get to see you anymore these days."

Nico stumbled after him, muttering curses under his breath. "Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise, _di Angelo." _He got a groan in response.

"You know I hate surprises." Will just chuckled and pulled Nico along with him, heading for Camp woods. There was a dagger in an arm sheath if needed to defend himself against the things that would go bump in the night.

It wasn't too far into the forest, though. The moon cast just enough light for him to see where he was going, and he found the rope-and-wood ladder easily. He let go of Nico reluctantly and grabbed the ladder, beginning to pull himself up.

"Come up with me," he called down.

"The things I do for you at two AM," Nico grumbled, but following him nevertheless. Will reached the top, crawling into the small treehouse with no problem. A few seconds later, the wood floor creaked as Nico stepped in.

It wasn't anything fancy, despite the fact that Hephaestus kids had made it. It'd been about four or five years since it'd been built. There was a small wraparound, and in the cabin, there were two beds, a small desk and chair, some really cool lighting features, and shelves filled with board games and journals and stuff.

It was dubbed 'The Couple Cabin.' Originally, Beckendorf had made it for Silena so they could spend time together. After finding out about it, other campers started sneaking in for date nights or ditching camp activities to hang out in it. He'd had his fair share of seeing campers heading into the forest to come here (Percy and Annabeth used to come here _all the time, _gods), and now he was actually doing it.

"What _is _this place?"

"It's the, er, Couple Cabin. Campers always snuck up here."

"Oh," Nico said, sounding slightly surprised. He felt the blood rush to his face, and he turned, taking a seat on the one of the beds. Will patted the space next to him.

"Come on, Nico, sit." As the younger boy did, he reached over and grabbed his hand. Their fingers locked together perfectly, two matching puzzle pieces. He'd missed Nico a lot more than he'd let himself believe.

Hit with a sudden urge, he reached out and tugged Nico closer to him. He smelled like a mixture cinnamon and fresh air, and Will pressed a kiss on his head of black hair.

"You're so cute," he muttered, leaning closer and pressing another kiss on Nico's cheek. His breathing hitched slightly, and Nico turned towards him. They both fell back onto the bed, and Will kissed Nico's cheek again, closer to his lips.

"I'm not-" A sharp exhalation. "cute."

"But you _are,_" he whispered, pressing a kiss to Nico's neck and smiling against soft skin. The other boy turned to face him, kissing him full on the lips.

"If I'm cute, you're adorable, Solace," Nico mumbled, kissing him again. He sighed in content, wrapping his arms around Nico's smaller frame.

"Gods, Nico," he whispered into the darkness. "You know I love you, right?"

There. There it was - the honest truth. Great gods above, he fucking loved Nico di Angelo more than he could put in words. There was a beat of silence. He wondered if he'd spoken too soon. A sigh, and then lips against his.

"I know," Nico told him, voice cracking. "You shouldn't say things like that, Will. Don't do this to me." Will shook his head, kissing Nico.

"Gods be damned, I love you." A kiss. "I love you." Another kiss. "I _love _you."

"Okay," Nico whispered, burying his face in Will's chest. He didn't miss the fact that his shirt was starting to get wet. "Will - just hold me, please."

And so he did, though he didn't miss the fact that Nico hadn't said the same back at him.

* * *

><p><em>Oh, fuck, <em>was Will's first thought when he blinked the sunlight out of his eyes. His second thought went something like this: _Something's wrong. _

And then his brain caught up with him, and he realized he couldn't move. At all.

He was having one of his episodes, where all his muscles and joints and whatever would just lock up, and he couldn't move. Sometimes, he couldn't find the strength or energy to move.

He just _couldn't _make himself get up.

Will lay there, curled up in his bunk, staring as the sun hit dust motes floating through the air. It was these moments that terrified him the most. He couldn't move, couldn't speak. He didn't know how long it would last, or what would happen if he just closed his eyes for a few seconds.

So helpless. So.. weak. Unable to respond as people fluttered by him, whispering things and holding his hand. He didn't know if his heart would keep beating, or if his lungs would keep breathing in air.

He didn't know if these seconds would be his last, unable to do anything but stare as Thanatos stalked closer and closer. The thought weighed down on him heavily, and he struggled to breathe.

On his nightstand, the digital clock blinked. It was 5:21 AM, much earlier than his siblings usually got up at. Which meant that if he did die here, no one would know until two hours later, coming to wake him and finding..

_Think positive, _he told himself. The sunlight drew closer, washing over him and warm. He could almost imagine his father, standing over him and smiling. The rays kissed his face.

Then his frozen joints unlocked, and he let out a breath. It was over - for now. And then the pain made his body go rigid, and shudders passed through him. The breath was knocked out of him. A cold sweat popped out all over him, and he shivered.

Finally, the episode passed, and he stared at the wooden slats of the bunk bed.

_Oh, fuck, _he thought to himself. It didn't ease the weight pressing down on him, but it did make him feel a little better.

* * *

><p>He excused himself from the Campfire-Sing-a-long, bolting for his cabin. No one followed, but he could feel worried glances on his back.<p>

Will moved towards Cabin One sluggishly, pain shooting through every limb and clouding his mind. The already dark environment darkened even more, and he moved faster. _No. _

The gold-painted cabin was in sight. Even now, it shone brightly, like a beacon of light cutting through a thick haze of fog. He gasped for air, stumbling towards it on stiff legs. _No. _

He was at the porch. _Not now. _

The door made a creaking sound as he entered, gripping the door frame tightly. His knuckles turned white from the pressure. _Please. _

Nico was already sitting on Will's bed, playing with a fistful of flowers. _Gods.. _

His heart almost gave out then. "Nico," he said, reaching out with shaking hands. The black-clad boy stood up, pressing the flowers into his outstretched hands._ I don't want to die._

"Daffodils, for sunshine and unrequited love. Meadow saffron, because my best days are dying with you. A tea rose, because I'll always remember you."

"And the last one?" he whispered, pointing at the red rose.

Nico kissed him, making the world sway with dizzying colors.

"Because I love you, you idiot," he said, his voice cracking in the middle of it. The stems of the flowers were brittle and rough against the palms of his hands. He clutched them close to him, reaching out with a hand.

"Nico," he murmured, catching the boy's jacket with his hand.

The Ghost King was already gone, the shadows growing around the spot where he'd been, and the world faded into darkness.

* * *

><p><strong>coughs. 5,384 words, damn it. **

**So again, a happy birthday to kitty! Or a sad.. birthday, sorry? I had this grand idea in my head of flowers - but I needed to go deeper - so graves.. and then Edgar Allen Poe. ****I kept the ending in my head the whole time I was writing this (which, by the way, is pretty much a week and a half). **

**Tell me what you thought of it! I worked really hard on it - and I skipped NaNo work time to write this, so it'd be greatly appreciated. **

_achieving elysuim _

**4/10/15 EDIT: Er, looking at the reviews and... I'm sorry? Not really. **


	2. part ii

**'mid dark thoughts of the grey tombstone**

_"Thy soul shall find itself alone  
>'Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone..."<br>Spirits of the Dead, Edgar Allan Poe_

* * *

><p>"I am sorry, Will Solace," Thomas Jefferson said. His voice was a quiet one, but it was the kind that made people <em>listen<em>.

He just nodded, half-bowing. A bitter smile formed on his face. Life was fair - and so was death. It was too bad that the truth he'd been given had also happened to be the most painful one.

"But," the man added, and he straightened. "unlike the others, you will retain basic knowledge. Speech. Senses. Emotion. Thought. A small sense of identity."

His mind spun, but finally he nodded. "Thank you," he said. That was, he supposed, the only kindness they could offer him.

Will began to walk - well, more like drift. Before he left the judges, he turned back to look back at them one more time - the last time he would ever see them. Three faces turned to look at him, too.

The last he would ever see of them was the dim light reflecting off of their cruel gold masks.

* * *

><p>The ghosts that took his arms and that were escorting him were like machines. They had no emotions, didn't speak, and didn't care. He wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not, that he was able to dwell in his thoughts alone and without interruption.<p>

The first thought that came to mind in the silence: Well, shit.

His second thoughts were, morbidly enough, about his body. He wasn't quite sure what had happened exactly. Had he been drawn to the Underwood with Nico? Was his body lying on the riverbank of the Styx, to never be noticed again? Or worse, had his brothers and sisters come back from the campfire, laughing and joking, the sputters of a half-finished song in their midst to find him on the floor, dying flowers clutched in his hand?

He could see it clearly now, the chaos that would descend. He'd seen it happen before, on the battlefield, one of the downsides of being a child of Apollo. Most of them were gifted with healing powers (and the ability to make really bad poetry), so they had a tendency to think they _could _heal anything and everything.

Alyss' scream, the kind that tore out of your mouth and left you breathless. Jay, who would kneel down and check for a pulse, for breathing, for anything that could possibly indicate life. And when he finally accepted it, he'd look at their waiting siblings and shake his head no.

And that would be the end.

He still remembered the first war - how they'd lost five of their count. How terrible it had been, even after months of healing and new siblings coming in, even after he'd thought he'd gotten over it.

Will had needed to be the strong one. He'd been the one holding Alyss until she finally fell asleep, exhausted. He'd been the one helping with Amy's post-traumatic stress disorder. He'd been the one telling corny jokes until Dave finally cracked a smile. Holding hands and bringing his younger siblings breakfast in bed. Singing them songs - his favorites ones from what now seemed like a lifetime ago. (Maybe.. maybe it was.)

Who would be there for them now he was gone?

He sent a little prayer to what gods would be listening - but there was only one god here, and he was not kind.

They stopped at the river. _The Lethe. _

He'd heard so many stories about it, but never had he imagined he would stand in front of it. It was a strange river, its currents slow and lazy. The white water was translucent, but even though he could kind of see through it, there was no bottom in sight.

The two ghosts that were escorting him let go of his arm, and he stumbled. He hadn't realized how much they'd been supporting him, lost in his thoughts as he was.

The ghost to his left gestured a hand at the river, and then the two stepped back. He had a feeling they could wait for him forever.

Trembling, he stepped forward. There had been a moment in his mortal life, when he'd stumbled towards the Apollo cabin. He'd begged - _please. Not now. I don't want to die. _

This was much, much worse. The river was beautiful in its strange way, but he knew that if he listened to its call, that would be it. He wouldn't be Will Solace. He wouldn't be the counselor of Cabin One, the teen who never missed, the person that loved Nico like he'd never before.

He'd just be... well, he didn't know exactly what he would be.

There was a faint whisper of sound. He looked up - and his breath caught somehow even if he couldn't exactly breathe. Nico stood on the other side of the river, Stygian sword held loosely in one hand. He was exactly as Will remembered him, tall and lanky, dressed in black with that ridiculous but admittedly cute avitar jacket around him. His hair was messy and skin pale.

He looked as much as a ghost as Will was.

"Will," the other boy said softly, almost pleading, but he was already shaking his head no.

"Nico," he said, staring at him, drinking in what would be the last thing he'd remember before it was all washed away. _I'm not ready for this. _

"Say something," Nico pleaded after a moment of silence. _I can't. _

"Tell me...," he trailed off, his voice cracking. "Tell me you love me." _One last time. _

"I love you, Will," the son of the Underworld said, and he could hear the truth in those words. Truth in a world built of lies and sadness, of tears and long-forgotten dreams. _I can't lose myself. _

He didn't say anything after that, staring at the milky waters. _I can't lose _you.

Will lifted his chin up, held his head high, and clung to those words, a last memory that he would hold onto as he lost everything. Then he stepped into the river, into a vast and unimaginable place where everything slipped away from his fingers.

The spirit was hauled from the river and onto the black sand beach. He did not remember anything, nothing but the fact that he was male, and he had died, and this was to be his eternity.

When he glanced back at the river and the bank beyond it, he had a vague feeling that something there was missing.

The thought was gone before he knew it.

* * *

><p>Death - the afterlife. Live as dead for eternity? Check. Live with millions of other mindless ghosts? No one had mentioned that, though he was sure he wouldn't have remembered either way.<p>

It was easy to figure out why.

Besides him, no one really cared. They were dead. They were brain-dead. The shitty, shitty living space and tons of poor wandering souls didn't matter to poor wandering souls. Right.

He'd tried speaking to a few of them. It hadn't worked; maybe he was an anomaly. Maybe... and this thought was terrible, but maybe the judges had deemed it so he hadn't done something bad enough to be sent to the Fields of Punishment - but he hadn't done anything quite good enough to be sent to Elysium.

_Stop it, _he told himself. _Shut up. _

Eventually, the spirit found himself next to a poplar tree, ink black with branches that reminded him of bones. Hades had really gone all out on the decoration of this place. Death and destruction galore.

He didn't know how long he sat there; time didn't matter, and there was no way to keep track of it. He stared at the other ghosts and invented stories for them - they who would never have stories of their own. He chose names and made up their families and their lives and why they had died - and somehow these stories that he told were ones that seemed so familiar but so strange.

He didn't know where they came from. Maybe from his past life - his subconscious filling in the blanks of his memory.

Next to sitting by the tree, he drifted through the crowds often. He never knew what he was doing. What he was looking for, grasping at something in his memory. He never found it, though.

And so that was how eternity went. He wondered if immortals were miserable, too.

* * *

><p>The River Lethe was right next to Asphodel. The only thing he knew about it was what it was and why it was here. He didn't have any memory of it - which was funny, because he'd probably gotten his memories erased by that river.<p>

Sometimes, but only sometimes, he watched other spirits be escorted to it. He didn't know why he did it. It certainly wasn't a good thing.

Some spirits cried, begging to let back to their lives. Others stayed silent, head held high and stepping without hesitation. Some fought and struggled. Others were dragged, not strong enough to make the journey on their own.

He wondered which one of those he had been.

The spirit watched as yet another ghost was escorted to the River Lethe. It was a girl, maybe his age or so. Her hair was brown, brown like the color of dirt, and as they walked past, he could make out sharp features.

She paused and turned slowly. Their eyes met.

It was a shame, he thought, staring into her green eyes. It was a shame he didn't remember her, and in a few moments, she would remember nothing of him, either. She opened her mouth to say something; recognition flitted across her features.

He reached out, pulled by some unknown thought, an instinct. She knew him. She _knew _him. The girl did not reach for him, but she gave a start, her hand moving at her side as if she wanted to.

"Who are you?" he whispered. "Who am I?"

Silence.

Then, finally: "My name is Katie." Katie. He repeated it in his mind and then out loud, the name so natural on his lips. Katie. The name made the presence of the Lethe all the more threatening.

"Tell me more," he begged her, feeling a desperation hold him tight in its grasp. "Please. Tell me who I am." She glanced towards the River Lethe, and when she turned back, her face was sad and drawn.

"I can't tell you that, but..," she hesitated. Katie made up her mind.

"His name is Nico," she said softly, and then Katie - whoever she'd been, whoever she'd been _to him_ - disappeared into the milky waters, never to be seen again.

* * *

><p>The terrible thing was that Will had been given a gift - but it was one that sent him deeper into the darkness that lurked in the corners of his mind and the Underworld.<p>

Nico. He clung to the name in the deep nights that fell, when he felt like the world had stopped spinning for moments because it was just too much.

At least he knew who he was searching for, now. When he scanned the crowds, when he looked at the escorted ghosts, when he sat down and searched his memory.

His name was Nico, and he would be found.

* * *

><p>The spirit had been going about his normal routine. The usual: strolling around Asphodel, pushing through moaning ghosts, attempting to climb some poplar trees. Not like he was going anywhere anytime soon.<p>

Or at least, he _had _been going about his normal routine. But there was something not quite right about the Underworld. The air seemed different - more quiet, maybe. More subdued. The calm before a storm.

Every one of them felt it. A presence. All spirits of the dead could feel presences - especially when they didn't belong to this world. This person, this creature was a) alive, b) alive, and c) very much alive.

He had been walking to a poplar tree (the one on the far east side on the edge of Asphodel and near the Lethe) when he felt it. And lo and behold, when he reached his poplar tree, someone was already there.

He approached cautiously, calling out. If his heart could beat, it would beat quickly. The loneliness dragged down on him, a heavy burden to bear on no longer existent shoulders.

"Hello," he called hesitantly. The figure looked up.

"Hello," he said softly back. He made his way next to this mysterious (and very much alive) person, sitting down next to him.

He took the moment to study him. He couldn't be very old - maybe fifteen? Sixteen? He couldn't tell. It didn't matter much anyway, because holy mother of gods (Rhea), this boy was cute.

Like, drop dead cute. (Ha ha ha, he cracked himself up sometimes.)

He had messy black hair and deep brown eyes. When he looked at them, he could almost see flecks of gold. The boy was pale, but he could spot the faint beginnings of a tan. He wore a tan avitar jacket and dark jeans that made him look _really _good.

It wasn't like there were any rules about checking out cute boys.

"You're cute," he blurted out into the silence, and the boy froze. "Sorry."

"No, it's fine," the boy told him, a small smile working its way onto his face. "You're not half-bad yourself, hotshot."

"So," he said, desperate for an escape from cruel reality. "What's the big deal?"

"About what?"

He gestured to the boy. "You. You show up, and there's this big ripple through the whole place."

The boy nodded. "You'll get used to it soon enough. I'm the son of Hades."

The son of Hades himself. Holy cow.

"Oh," he managed to say. "What brings you to Asphodel, then?"

The son of Hades' face darkened considerably. He began to twist a skull ring around his finger, and bones shivered from underneath the ground. He himself began to feel - almost faint, weakened.

He could feel himself fading from existence. The boy noticed and stopped immediately.

"Sorry," he whispered, so quietly he almost didn't hear it. "I didn't mean to do that. Comes with the whole Underworld power package."

"Oh."

"Yeah..," the boy said, before hesitating.

"I'm sorry," he said, the words true. "I shouldn't have pried. It's not my business." The boy gave him a strange look, one he couldn't decipher, and nodded.

"No, don't be." He took a deep breath. "I'm... looking for someone."

"Oh," he repeated. "Need any help?"

The son of Hades shook his head. "I have some time, though," he offered. "You look a little lonely."

He smiled.

* * *

><p>He made his rounds, mentally noting some of the new spirits that had popped up. Asphodel just filled and filled, didn't it.<p>

Somehow, he made his way back to his tree and stared at it. The dark tree looked skeletal almost, like bones reaching towards the sky. Or the ceiling, whatever. He eyed it. Maybe he could climb to the top today. (He'd only gotten so far.)

Mentally preparing, he grabbed the first branch and pulled himself up onto it. There was no fear of falling or anything; after all, he was dead.

He'd gotten halfway up when the son of Hades appeared out of nowhere. He let go of the branch and hit the ground, though the impact didn't hurt at all. It simply startled him.

"Ugh," he grumbled. The boy chuckled.

"Need a hand?" he asked, extending his own. He took it and let himself be pulled up, marveling at the warmth and the - strangely familiar - feel of his hand.

"Thanks," he said, grinning.

"No problem, Sunshine," the boy replied, before catching himself. He looked at the blushing boy curiously.

"Sunshine?"

"You.. seem like the kind of person," the boy said nervously. He shrugged.

"Right, Mr. Emo." The boy glowered at him with a look that could send monsters running to mama. He wasn't phased by it much, though.

"I am not emo," he huffed. He snorted and gestured at the boy's clothing, which was all in black. (A black shirt and tight, ripped jeans that showed skin. Damn. If he wasn't dead... well.)

"Whatever you say," he teased, and the boy shook his head and laughed.

"You seem to have missed me," he noted, and he stopped laughing to look at him. A pause.

Then: "Yeah," he said slowly. "I guess. Found who you've been looking for?"

A deep breath. "No, I haven't."

"Oh, well... good luck, then," he said. And he knew it was a terrible thought, but he hoped that the boy wouldn't find who he was looking for. It was stupid - but he liked the boy.

And if he found who he was looking for, _he_ would be left alone here. And he didn't want that.

* * *

><p>There was a lot of time for him to think around the Underworld. The time came in which he finally realized that the son of Hades - the almighty <em>Ghost King <em>- knew who he was. Probably.

The next time the boy appeared, he was waiting. He'd been lingering on the edge of Asphodel, somehow managing to lean against a poplar tree without falling through it. He wondered if maybe the tree was dead, too - was that why he could lean against it? But then again, what happened when trees died? Trees decayed or turned into dirt or whatever - decomposition, that was it - but so did human bodies.

"Hello," the boy said, coming to stand across from him. He looked up sharply, surprised; he'd been so lost in the theory of what happened to trees when they died that he hadn't noticed the son of Hades appearing. "You... look nice."

Was this his way of flirting, or was he genuinely telling him he looked nice? "You look better." And he did, dressed in a sharp suit. It was all black - as usual - except for the strangely colored tie, a bright orange. "You all dressed up for something?"

Immediately, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. The boy's face closed off, darkening. "Yes," he said curtly, his fingers playing with his skull ring again, twisting it again and again. He suddenly swallowed, looking down. The ground shook slightly, and bones shivered as they were drawn to the surface. He shuddered, the power drawing him in. The boy noticed and took a deep breath. The shaking stopped, and he melted back into existence. "I.. sorry. I thought I'd visit before I left."

Unconsciously, he moved closer. The boy was warm, warmer than anything he'd ever known. It stirred something in him, an unfamiliar feeling. He was missing something.

Suddenly there was a burst of light, and a tall, willowy woman appeared next to the boy. He knew who she was immediately and dropped to his knees, bowing. She told him to rise, but otherwise paid not much attention to the spirit. She instead turned to the son of Hades - her stepson. He took the opportunity to study her. Persephone was beautiful. She appeared young, not much older than he himself, though he wasn't sure of his own age. The thought scared him. She had blonde, wavy hair that was pulled back and clipped elaborately. She wore a simple dress, brightly colored against the bleakness of the Underworld. She glowed of immortality. Her eyes, bright blue, carried a spark of life that his never would.

Her lips were curled into a faint smile. She pressed a handful of flowers into her stepson's hands. "For you," she said simply. "I thought you might want them."

"Anemone," the boy said, looking at the white petaled flowers, small in size with a large, dark center. "and carnations."

"Yes," Persephone said, looking sad. "Some of them aren't real, but I managed to get a few for you." Some looked freshly picked from the world above, but mixed in the bouquet were chilling, delicate flowers made of gemstones, fragile and thin - almost real.

"Thank you," he whispered. She nodded, her face softening slightly.

Then she turned to face him. Her lips parted in what almost seemed to be surprise. "Ah," she said, eyes bright. "How very interesting. How very interesting, indeed."

"What's interesting?" he asked, suddenly defensive. She smiled.

"Be careful," was all she said before disappearing, the smell of flowers left in her wake. He turned back to the son of Hades, who was clutching the flowers. He turned, ready to leave.

"Wait," he said, reaching out for the boy's wrist. His fingers brushed them just barely, and the boy froze. "Wait," he repeated, not knowing what to say. "Don't leave me here."

"I have to go," the boy said, turning to face him but backing away.

"The flowers," he said haltingly. The feeling that he was missing something returned: the same feeling he'd had on the riverbank of the Lethe, when he'd looked back at an empty spot, as if someone should have been there; the same feeling he'd had meeting Katie with her grass-green eyes and mysterious words; the same feeling he'd had not moments ago, standing with Persephone. The flowers. He was missing something - the flowers. "What do they mean?"

"Anemones, the forsaken, and carnations for divine love: the pink ones meaning I'll never forget him, the red meaning my heart aches for him, the striped ones meaning I wish I could be there with him, the white meaning he was sweet and lovely. He died, and I'm lost here without him." Something inside of him sank and fell and cracked. He stared into dark eyes, and then not knowing what he was doing, stepped forward and pressed their lips together.

Kissing him was indescribable. It wasn't an explosion or with the feeling of flying. It just _was_, in the way their lips fit together and how warm his lips were and the way he almost felt like falling through the ground because he _could_.

"Stop," the son of Hades gasped against his lips. "_Please._ Don't.. do this to me."

He reached up to touch his lips, so cold, so.. dead. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"Don't.. I just.. I'm sorry, I can't.. you could never do anything wrong, it's me. I mess things up. Everything I touch, everything I love, dies. I don't want to lose you again."

Again. That word, again. The world spun, and he focused on the flowers. Anemones. Forsaken. Abandoned, deserted, left behind.

"What was his name?" he managed to choke out.

"Will. Will... he didn't deserve any of it. It should've been me," he said. "It should have been me, dammit. I should.. I have to go."

"Don't say that," he protested, what was left of his heart shivering.

"I have to go," the boy repeated, shaking his head. He turned on his heel and dissolved into shadow. _Forsaken, _he thought. All that was left behind was him - and a single carnation.

* * *

><p>Alone. That was what he had become. Completely and utterly alone.<p>

Just... alone. He sat by his favorite poplar tree and held the carnation in between his fingers for an eternity, until it dried and darkened and crumbled to dust. Sitting there, staring out at the Lethe, he realized one thing: he would give up any chance he had at regaining memories if only the spirit could see _him _one more time.

* * *

><p>"Hi," someone whispered, coming to sit next to him. He didn't turn. This wasn't real, it couldn't be. He turned his face away, chest filling up with sadness. "Aren't you talking to me?"<p>

He shifted, feeling bitter and empty. "You left me," he said, and it was an accusation, sharp and painful. "I was alone."

A warm hand slipped in his and squeezed. His heart shuddered.

"I'm sorry."

He looked back at the son of Hades. "I know."

This time, he was the one being kissed. It was raw emotions; a rough kiss, small hands in his hair as he wrapped his arms around the other boy. He kissed him like his life depended on someone who was already dead. He kissed even though he knew this could never work: not in this lifetime.

"Don't leave," he begged when they pulled back. "Stay here."

"I can't," he said, looking away. "I can't stay here with you like.. like.." He threw his hands up, frustrated. He had tears at the corner of his eyes that fell. He didn't bother to wipe them away, so the spirit lifted his own hand and brushed away the tears.

"Why not?" he murmured, pausing, his thumb on the other boy's cheek.

"I don't belong here," he protested. "I don't belong anywhere."

"Don't be stupid," he said with an edge that surprised himself. "You belong _here. _With... well, with _me_. I love you." There was no turning back now. He'd said it, and those words could never be taken back. He wouldn't dare take them back, anyway; he meant it.

Rapid breathing. Eyes that refused to look at him.

"I know." He noted that the boy didn't say it back. He pressed another kiss to his lips, softer, gentler than before. Pleading. "Gods, I know."

But his feelings weren't returned, were they? He was the son of Hades, the Ghost King. He was someone great and funny and kind. Most of all, he was _good. _The kind of good he couldn't ever be; there was a reason he had ended up in Asphodel, wasn't there?

"You're right," he said finally, and the boy's head snapped up. "You can't stay here. I'm a selfish, horrible person; I don't deserve you."

He stood up, ready to walk away, when he was grabbed. "Don't ever say that again." the Ghost King cried. "I never deserved you. Not in life and not in death. But I loved you and I still love you and never _once_ deserved you. But I let myself fall, and I _let _myself love you. You're... you are so much _better _than me in every way. And you don't get it!"

They stared at each other, two opponents locked in a battle he didn't want to fight.

Finally: "Get what?"

"I tried so hard to stay away, because I knew this was never going to work. I tried _so _hard, and I couldn't do it. I couldn't leave you, Will."

He froze. _Will. _That feeling, he was missing something, he was missing a lifetime of memories... but he wasn't missing it, anymore. Will.

"Nico," Will breathed, but he was already turning to leave.

"I love you too much to let you go, but I have to. I lost you a long time ago, Will."

He grabbed Nico's hand, searching his eyes. "I'm right here. You _never_ lost me, Nico." He was shaking his head. "You were looking for me, and you found me."

Nico turned away for a second, pausing. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a fistful of sweet peas, the pink flowers small enough to fit in his palm. "I lost you on December twenty-first." The words sent a chill down his back. "It was the darkest day of the year."

"No, Nico-" he started.

"You made my life so much brighter. The time I had with you, the time I had to love you.. That was one of the best times I've had in my life. Those," he gestured at the sweet peas. "are to thank you for it."

He took a deep breath and continued. "But it's also a goodbye. You left me first, Will. Now I have to leave you. I can't stay here with you however much I want to."

He was Will, yes - but he wasn't. Not really. Not anymore. _No. _

"Stay," he begged. _No._

"I love you, dammit, more than you'll ever know," Nico finally said, his voice cracking. He kissed him, and the world stopped for just a moment. _No._

"Nico," Will said, hands curling around the flowers. The goodbye, the thank you. _No._ He reached for the Ghost King's jacket just as he faded into shadow.

And then came the terrible, crushing feeling of falling. Where, he didn't know. There was a ripping sound as fabric tore, the _whoosh _of wind, the weightlessness. A pair of dark eyes met his. Then he slammed into water, cold, unforgiving, and white.

_After all,_ a voice in his head whispered as he was swept under and away by a current._ A hero's story always ends in tragedy. _


End file.
